Twisted System
by Mr. 125
Summary: Why does a seemingly normal research expedition require marines and a security force? When the team stumbles across a station, lost in deep space and controlled by a malicious AI program, things start to turn deadly for everyone involved.
1. Seven Years Earlier

Author's Introduction

Dear reader,

It seems you have clicked the glorious link that led you to this place. What is this place? This is a story of terror, action, and conspiracy. It is my first venture in horror territory. There's a little Alien, 28 Days Later, and Left 4 Dead thrown in for good measure but it all remains Halo.

Read on, have fun, and remember to leave a little something on your way out the door.

-125

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**Seven years ago / Unknown system**

From the bridge of the mid-sized cargo freighter _The Journeyman_, Barnes silently watched the asteroids tumble lazily in an endless orbit. The vessel jetted through the murky black space. From its looks—the blue and white striped designs—it was a commercial freighter. Trucking tons of cargo for the corporate fat cats, day in day out. That was the life.

Of course, this was exactly what Barnes had wanted everyone to think. From any UNSC scanner, it would appear as a civilian vessel, taking a detour through territory unfamiliar, making up lost time in an attempt to get back on schedule. Whatever conclusions people jump to these days.

But the truth was far from what it appeared to be.

First of all, Barnes was as much an average-Joe dock-worker as he was a god damned Vice Admiral—in which case, he was not. He was a scavenger and pirate, ready to hijack any lone spacecraft, murder her crew, and sell her parts and armaments for hefty prices.

And his so-called "harmless" freighter? It was just as deadly as a UNSC frigate and twice as fast. One EMP launched, and his band would be ready for boarding action.

He wasn't just taking a detour. Word around, a battle had occurred in this system, and the UNSC were bugging out—abandoning the place for the Covenant. If this was true, he was going to quickly fly in, grab anything of value, and was even prepared to fight anyone for the spoils of the wreckage.

And if the Covenant were there, it would be just a slight peek. He'd managed to procure a military-grade Shaw-Fujikawa generator for no expense to him and his crew... that was the beauty of his line of work. He had no worries.

The ship weaved past the rocky formations, but to his disgruntled surprise, there was no wreckage. There was, however, something much better, which caught his eye. It was a dark spot, hidden in shadow.

Barnes' pilot swore. "Covenant?"

"Maybe," Barnes replied. He stabbed at a button on the console and spoke into the receiver, "Fire up the Shaw Fujikawa and keep it hot just in case."

With each passing second, it grew bigger. Barnes could make out its shape to be of human architecture. They drifted closer through the dead space.

A space station, here? This was most likely a backwater colony, almost uncharted space.

But... you gotta start somewhere, right?

He said to his pilot, "Take us in a little closer. If they ping us, give 'em the codes. But if they don't take, have the EMP prepped. They look in our direction funny, zap them to hell."

With a couple of keystrokes, the man said, "Aye, sir, EMP ready."

Two minutes passed, and the ship drifted closer.

"They're not pinging us." The pilot breathed a sigh of relief.

"Scan the station. If they knew we were here, they'd be all over us already."

A moment later, the pilot looked up from the screen, and announced, "Nothing breathing. Commence docking?"

Barnes nodded with satisfaction. "Bring us in. I'll send in a team first, then we'll get all hands together, take what we can."

The pilot merely nodded, not taking his eyes off the monitor.

"Seal is tight. No need for vac-suits—the scanner reads one-hundred percent air." Barnes released the key on the intercom. He sat back into his chair, and listened to what his team had to say for the next ten minutes.

_"Cutting through now. Just a few minutes... Now we're proceeding through the air lock… Okay. We're in. That's the end of the hall—going up the stairs now."_ Barnes heard each metallic clump as the team climbed through the ship. Four minutes later, their report came in.

_"Passing the living quarters. It's deserted, but it looks like someone left in a hurry. A data pad was left on energy conservation mode. Looks like the camera is good to go. Standby for live-feed." _

On the main screen, there was a warble of static, and the image began to patch through, albeit garbled. The space station was dark, with a few patches of light from a few dim, eerily blinking lamps. Other than that, it was completely deserted, empty, and clean.

_"What the—Jesus, Barnes, you'd better get over here,"_ a crewman said offscreen. The camera made its way to the voice, and when the picture focused, Barnes' stomach turned nearly inside out.

The team was now in the medical bay. The camera zoomed in on a figure, illuminated by the blue-tinted light, lying on an operating table. From what he could see, the person wasn't carefully placed on the metallic surface, more like sprawled on top. When the image cleared, the figure was the remains of a man. He looked like he'd been shorn in half and torn apart at the same time—like his attacker wouldn't make up its mind. But there was no man strong or even vicious enough who could have done this with his bare hands. The force was much too powerful. The decaying flesh didn't look like it was cut into, but instead taken hold of, and the skin and muscles forcefully ripped.

The camera shook slightly as there was an ear-splitting crackle of static over the station's intercom. The feed distorted from the noise. Every member of the team flinched visibly, raising and cocking their weapons. With a reverberating hum, the lights in the room flashed on, and slowed to a dim luminescent glow. But that was enough to allow for visibility and nothing prepared the men or Barnes for what they saw.

Blood stained the once antiseptic walls like thick unmixed paint, like splatters from an angry work of art. They saw where the liquid splashed across, and leaked down the wall to pool on the floor—and only then they realized that it was everywhere. Decomposing and severed torsos, mutilated limbs, leering heads, the pulpy remains of bodies, riddled with bullet holes and violent slashes.

One crewman's head snapped around, taking the scene in with wide eyes. Another off screen had bent over and was vomiting loudly. There were whispers of disbelief and shock. The camera moved to look at the leading man, who addressed Barnes. He was pale and spoke urgently.

"Barnes, this is fucked. We're bugging out, like right now!" he looked around nervously, his knuckles white from tightly gripping his rifle. "We need to MOVE!" He raised his voice to a worried yell. As if to end his sentence, there was a deep throaty gurgle which echoed through each dark corner. The team stood even closer, guns pointed in every direction of darkness, their flashlights and laser sights darting wildly around the room.

_"What did you do?"_

_"Hell's that?"_

"_Oh shit. Oh shit!"_

There was a painful silence, and the only think Barnes heard was his drumming heartbeat as the fright gnawed at him, the rapid breaths of each man in the station, and the light whir of the fan in the ventilation shaft. There was another growl which sounded even closer. The camera whipped around, and Barnes forced himself to calm down.

The shattering sound of glass made his pulse beat in his head, louder than before. A misshapen creature ran through the narrow beams of light. It looked like a human, but something was terribly wrong. Its head was bent at an odd angle, almost as if it was broken, and its limbs flailed around as it staggered towards the group. That was all Barnes could make of it before the crewmen opened fire. The muzzle flash played hell with the image on the camera, and all he could hear were the quick stutters of every weapon and the yells of the disoriented men.

As the creature fell under a hail of fire, one member slowly advanced towards the mangled and bloodied corpse, and nudged it once. Barnes didn't get a closer look, as a hollow clanging was heard from ever corner of the room.

_"Damn it to hell! I don't know what—"_

_"Shut up, everyone shut up! Check your ammo."_

_"The vents! They're in—"_ was all the men could manage before a section in the narrow tubing popped open; a hail of forms showered him and another crewman. They looked swollen, bulbous, and a few stuck on two men. The screamed out in horror and agony as tendrils shot out, ripping through their skin. The rest of the squad fired at them. The combined fire instantly killed the two men, shredding through the pod-like forms.

Barnes watched in morbid fascination, as the camera man suddenly pointed at the man who had inspected the fresh corpse, for behind him, the reanimated creature slowly rose. As the crewmember turned to see, a tentacle lashed out, severing his throat. Barnes could see the spray of blood as the man's head whipped violently around, eyes lifeless.

Then, more humanoid forms began to drop out of ventilation shafts, landing on the deck plates. As they landed, the impact shattered their kneecaps. Barnes could see fragmented bones sticking through spongy flesh. More came in through the hallway breaking into a run. The mzzle flash lit the entire room, and the sound was deafening. The camera man had already thrown aside his piece of equipment, and was firing his rifle at the nearest creature. They seemed to absorb the bullets, and kept on coming.

_"We're holed in! They're everywhere!" _

Another man cried out in pain as a pod landed on his back, and was silenced by a combat form who delivered a powerful blow to the back of his head, caving in his skull.

_"Fire in the hole!"_

"_Eat this—"_

There was a heavy whump! of a grenade, but Barnes couldn't see any more action. He slowly rose to his feet from the vid screen, empty and silent.

"Seal the doors. Fly this thing," he whispered. "Get us the fuck out of here."

But before he could touch the dial, there was a low rumbling growl behind him. Barnes froze up. His pilot, standing near the door, began to run to the control panel. But a pod sprang from the ground and grappled into his back. The man yelled and fell forward, rolling off the deck. Barnes looked through the hatch, and the fear washed over him. A large, hulking combat form made its way towards him.

Barnes quickly withdrew his sidearm, and emptied the clip. The creature had flinched with each powerful magnum round, but it still continued advancing. He gasped for breath, and put the barrel to the side of his head and squeezed the trigger. It clicked empty. He swore and tried to scramble away, but three pods flew through the air, and flung themselves at his body. He tried to scream out, but his jaw was already paralyzed as the sharp tendrils were driven deep into his chest, probing for vital organs.

Barnes fell backwards, a dazed expression on his face, his body convulsing. His blood dripped down onto the vid screen displaying only static.

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(11-29-06) Author's comments: More blood and guts to come. If you liked it, please leave a review. If you didn't like it, leave a review. Just shout out whatever.


	2. The Drunk Tank

**Note:** I'd just like to start with a heartfelt 'Thank you'. This is the most support and reviews I've had just for opening night. I hope I don't fail to satisfy. Many people have had concerns about how Ackerson manages to get his hands on the Flood. I've explained to a few that this is based on a forum theory I've read once. For final details, you'll have to stick around.

But thanks again, and here is more of the Twisted System.

The forgotten disclaimer: I am not associated with Microsoft or Bungie Studios. Halo is a registered trademark of Microsoft and etc.

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**  
2552, weeks after the fall of Reach**

**Present day**

The evening jazz wafted through the dim, smoky bar. The tiny place was packed full with civilians and marines. The loud obnoxious conversation spiked up and continually grew. Matthew King gazed around scornfully—after a day's work in the corps, the best thing would be a nice, quiet drink. And since alcohol was prohibited in the barracks, the next best thing would have to be in town. This looked to be the only decent spot in town. In fact, it looked to be the _only_ spot in town.

_But you have to take the good with the bad, I suppose,_ he frowned. King ran his finger over the rim of his glass, and his gaze fell to his half-eaten food. The beer was less than satisfactory… nowhere near as good as Coral beer, but Matthew wasn't picky. And just for the hell of it, he decided that the barstool was uncomfortable. He didn't have the patience to wait for a table to clear. His hunched-over-the-drink look and unsociable demeanor left him alone for the most part.

This was, however, only if certain people weren't specifically looking for him—but they were, and the marine's life was about to take a hard drop for the worst.

"King, that you? Hey! What are you doing in here? You never told me you were in town! We could've set a date, or something."

"Exactly why I didn't call," Matt replied quickly, snapping off one of his sour comments without even seeing the face. But that was enough; the man's bright attitude had Matthew resisting the urge to strike him in the face. He took a swift glance at the man's cropped hair, the perfect condition of his lengthy coat, and guessed the rest. King stood up slowly, and downed his glass in one gulp. The man was still standing behind him, looking expectant.

Matt motioned at the landlord, and mouthed "pre-paid". The stocky man in the oversized apron nodded and turned back to fixing his order. King turned back to the man, and before he could react, Matt wrapped one arm tightly around his shoulder, patted his back forcefully and began to guide him to the back of the bar. From a glance, it appeared as two drunken men staggering about. The light bulb had died, and the landlord hadn't been bothered to replace it. Once Matt and the man reached the back room, he did a check around the room. Every other customer seemed to be minding their own business.

King suddenly drove the man into the wall, restraining his arm, and forcing his head back unnaturally.

"Shit!" There was a cry of pain, but the marine had the man's jaw right against the back wall muffling the sound. He didn't want to kill the guy, and once the man's hand struggled free, he made a grab for the inside of his coat.

He whipped out a badge and managed to choke out, "Naval Intelligence!"

"I know." Matt growled in the lowest voice he could muster, "So what the hell do you want?"

"I'll tell you if—agh!" He was cut off, as King shoved his arm further up his back and he whimpered in agony. "ONI—mission—secret—eyes only!"

"Better." King released his grip, and shoved him against the wall. "How do you know me?"

The agent massaged his shoulder and glared at the marine. "Captain Matthew Elias King, stationed on Earth after your unit was too late in reinforcing Reach. Says right here in the files." He held up a data pad and dropped it into his pocket again.

"Go on."

"Well, by some lucky chance, you've been selected to help ONI. I came here to inform you. But they didn't tell me you were some crazy loon who needs an up in his meds."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. ONI needs my help? Don't you damned spooks think for yourselves? Intelligence my ass."

"We do the paperwork, the office work, but they need some poor bastard to do the field work—also known as the 'dirty work'."

"And what makes you think that 'poor bastard' is me?"

"Look, I don't decide these rules. Your name was most likely pulled out of a hat. There's an explanation. Happy?"

"Not in the slightest. And what if I refuse?"

"That's where things get interesting. Some bored AI may feel the need to 'reassign' your post to, oh, I don't know, somewhere in the middle of the _frontlines_."

Matt stared at the agent for a good hard while. "What's this mystery op, then?"

The agent reached into his coat pocket and produced a scrap of paper. "You're going to need this."

The marine scrutinized the scribble on the paper. "It's a chatter address."

"Yeah, I know that. It's mine."

"What the hell am I going to do with this?"

"That's where you get your mission details."

"They don't come _included_ with the shifty, inconspicuous asshole?"

"As a matter of fact, they don't. Once we've reached an understanding, I'm supposed to contact ONI. Whether you like it or not, you're in."

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**  
Note:** Short, sweet, sugary. Whatever. The chapters will definitely get longer in the future, so, continue to read, review, and I'll get up the next in the shortest time possible. Another note, if you want more of a novel feel, be patient. I know, this section feels more like and ILB thing, if you know what I mean. More dialogue than description. 


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